


Is Your Love For Me?

by CottonCoffin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Falling In Love, Female pronouns for Hange Zoë, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, because i'm not going to write about 15-16 years olds in a sexual context, fem!jean kirstein - Freeform, no sir, uh I describe lady parts so run away if that makes you uncomfy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottonCoffin/pseuds/CottonCoffin
Summary: In which Jean wakes up as a girl and Eren is his unexpected confederate. Feelings and misunderstandings happen.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61





	1. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, yeah, there it was.
> 
> His eyes flew right to his chest, where his sleep-attire stretched more than usual over the swell of his chest, confirming what he had already known twenty minutes ago but, instead of reporting to a nurse, stayed cooped up in his bed waiting for all the boys to leave. It’s not like he woke up with a pair of jugs but they were definitely larger than usual, made even more obvious by his skinnier build. Letting his eyes drift a little lower the shock was not so bad when he took in his wider hips and smaller waist, the curve of his thighs a little more accentuated. So engrossed in his new body he belatedly lifted his eyes to his face. At least something was familiar. It didn’t change much, only that his jaw had a softer angle to it and his nose looking more button-like.
> 
> A girl. He was looking at a girl.
> 
> Jean Kirschtein was a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for giving my story a chance!

The day began with a few loud knocks on the barrack doors. A collective groan filled the boys’ dormitory as the cadets sluggishly crawled out of their bunks and began getting ready for the day ahead. The morning routine varies from soldier to soldier. Some go straight for their washbasins and toothbrushes, others just throw on their civvies and trek over to the mess hall for the first pick. Jean, however, did neither and stayed put in his cot, out cold.

Eren noticed this after coming back from the washroom to stow away his washbasin, and right as he grabbed his key from his pillow he glanced at the long lump of sheets in the bunk opposite his. There was nothing new about cadets sneaking in a couple more minutes on weekdays but even the regular sleepers were gone at that point. Not to mention Jean has never been one to sleep-in, always perky and punctual (something older soldiers has praised him for which Eren listened with mild annoyance). So, really, there was no discernible reason for Eren to find his teammate as animate as a corpse well into the morning.

Despite these factors, Eren decided he wasn’t in the mood to handle a grouchy Jean - not that his usual demeanour was any better - this early in the day, so shrugged and carried on with his morning

— 

As the last person shut the door behind them, Jean let out an unsteady breath.

What the fuck.

What. The. Fuck.

He gave himself a brief moment to calm his hammering heart as he untangled himself from his sheets, feeling way too hot all of a sudden. He noticed how his knees no longer hung off the side to accommodate the whole length of his legs, but put off the thought as he rose to his feet. Jean felt the dreaded yet expected strain on his shoulders as he righted himself, trying to ignore the extra weight he felt as he ambled over to the full-body mirror.

And, yeah, there it was.

His eyes flew right to his chest, where his sleep-attire stretched more than usual over the swell of his chest, confirming what he had already known twenty minutes ago but, instead of reporting to a nurse, stayed cooped up in his bed waiting for all the boys to leave. It’s not like he woke up with a pair of jugs but they were definitely larger than usual, made even more obvious by his skinnier build. Letting his eyes drift a little lower the shock was not so bad when he took in his wider hips and smaller waist, the curve of his thighs a little more accentuated. So engrossed in his new body he belatedly lifted his eyes to his face. At least something was familiar. It didn’t change much, only that his jaw had a softer angle to it and his nose looking more button-like.

A girl. He was looking at a girl.

Jean Kirschtein was a girl.

He clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, hazel eyes retracing the image in front of him. Apart from a little bit more curve, he didn’t look all that different objectively but being the over-confident guy he was, he saw himself every day and any change stood out like a sore thumb to him. Just as his hands rose to touch his face, he heard a bell coming from outside, announcing the end of breakfast.

Shit.

Eyes screwed shut, Jean tore off his nightwear and climbed into his white, skin-tight trousers and shirt just before the front door was kicked in by Connie, who was laughing hysterically at whatever Reiner has said. The boys filed in without fuss as they too threw on their uniforms, unaware of Jean’s internal turmoil as he pushed himself into a corner to start on his straps. Only seeing his body was scary enough, but having to feel around his new assets and fasten his belts a little tighter than usual was a different brand of torture. The annoying teenage boy inside him found this hilariously ironic: how a straight man as himself would’ve practically drooled at the prospect of getting to feel up a girl, but is now terrified of the human female anatomy. Maybe it isn’t so hot when you are the fucking chick, he argues to himself.

Once he was satisfied with his chest straps, he perched himself on his bed and got to work on his legs. He stubbornly ignored the uncomfortable strain against his chest as he bent down and somehow finished up without incident. Slipping into his brown jacket he swiftly left the barracks, pointedly ignoring Marco’s call and jogged for the training grounds.

Things can only go up from here, he told himself.

— 

It was absolutely sweltering.

Hand-to-hand training was Eren’s most favourite activity but the ruthless heat was really dampening his mood today. The head instructor allowed them to shuck off their jackets at least, but even that was of little help. He could barely get a grip on his opponents now that his hands were constantly covered in a layer of sweat. He found himself on his ass more often than usual, not from a good match but exhaustion from the heat. 

“Alright, last rotation.” Eren wiped down his face with his shirt, grimacing at the damp patch he left behind.

He was up against Jean this time and he noticed he looked worse for wear. Short hair matted to his pale forehead and panting heavily, he swayed in place as he tried to maintain his stance. Eren remembers back to when he found Jean sleeping in earlier, wondering if he wasn’t feeling well to begin with, which would explain his excessively red face. 

“Hey man, do you want to sit out?” he asked, to which the blond shook his head, but the motion itself was too much it seems as he almost toppled himself over. Eren stepped forward in time to catch him by the shoulders, huffing disbelievingly. “C’mon, you’re barely even standing.” It felt out of place being the one to say this since _he_ was often the one to be dotted by either Armin or Mikasa. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t caring of his friends (is he friends with Jean?) but again he was toeing into uncharted areas.

“M’fine.” He made a pathetic attempt at pushing Eren away, which he rolled his eyes at. Being so close, he could now feel the feverish heat rolling off the other boy, only serving to spike Eren’s worry. Ignoring Jean’s feeble struggling, Eren half-dragged the boy over to the instructor who only needed one look at the poor guy to know he was not fine.

“The nurses are occupied with casualties from yesterday’s expedition so you can leave him in one of the spare rooms.” Eren nodded curtly and they were on their way.

— 

Jean woke up with a start when he found himself in the medical bay.

His skin felt uncomfortably sticky with residual sweat but the room was nicely ventilated. A window was cracked open above the bed, allowing a fresh wave of wind wash over his back cooling the sweat. He noticed an accumulation of wetness around his chest area and the dreaded memory of himself in the mirror came back to him.

He leaned forward to see the shadow of dampness under his bust, the shirt sheer and sticking inappropriately to his body and he tugged his jacket a little closer. He could feel his face warm up at the thought that someone had to probably carry him here, suggesting the possibility that someone knows.

The day has barely even started and he was already in the medical bay. This can’t be good.

A plan was in order, Jean decided, drawing his knees up to his chest and giving up when his chest got in the way. Something had to be done about that. He knew the existence of bras from a few heated nights with girls but that didn’t mean he knew where and how to get one himself - you know, without being a total creep. He regarded a cupboard hanging on the wall, eyeing the various pills and gauzes that sat inside collecting dust. That can’t be sanitary.

Without anything better to do, he got up and took a look inside. He coughed at the puff of dust that rose from the force of the opening door and a small roll of bandages instantly caught his eye. Perfect. Grabbing it, and checking the corridor for curious passersby, Jean closed the door and jammed the rug under it before walking back to the bed. He tossed his jacket on the backrest of a nearby chair and started at his buttons, stopping just at the ones that looked like they were holding on by a thread.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen himself.

Like, _seen_ seen.

He felt his heart pick up speed as he psychs himself up for it. It’s not like he’s never seen boobs before. As he said, he’s spent enough nights with women to know what they look and feel like, but this was something else entirely. Slowly this time, he undoes one button at a time, letting the shirt fall down his shoulders and stiffening at the breeze that hits the newly exposed area of skin. He isn’t entirely sure how to react as he stares unabashedly at his pale chest. As expected, his bust wasn’t massive but average in size, definitely small enough to be obscured by the bandages which Jean was relieved about. The nubs were peachy in colour, similar to that of his lips, if not a shade lighter. All the girls he’s been with had boobs that were fairly spherical in shape but he noted how his were perkier. Jean decided he likes them. He felt a little silly for being so shy before because now it wasn’t nearly as bad as the mind-blowing shock he braced for. Feeling a little daring, Jean lifts his hands and lets them hover over his chest, considering for a moment, then going for it. He jumps a little, not expecting the coolness of his hands as he cups the swells carefully, not pushing just holding. 

This is when a voice comes from outside the door, and before Jean could get over his sudden panic and cover himself, Eren comes marching in, hands full with papers and mumbling something about ‘notes from today’s lesson’. But his words don't all make it out as he stops in his tracks, green eyes drawing away from Jean’s glowing face and down his torso. He would have laughed at Eren’s idiotic expression if he wasn’t absolutely boiling with humiliation.

“Jesus fuck Eren!” he whisper-shouted, “Close the damn door, would you?!” at which Eren snapped out of his daze and he did just that. When he turned back, his face was considerably redder, eyes hell-bent on Jean’s face and nowhere else.

He flapped his mouth a couple of times before he settled on an intelligent, well-calculated “Hi.”

Jean let out a breathy laugh despite himself and tucked his knees to his chest. “Yeah, hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest paragraph is about tits am I okay?
> 
> Anyways, I hope you found this enjoyable if not at least humourous.


	2. Fire is warm too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He doesn’t know why he’s crying anymore. The weight of this whole ordeal just came crashing down on him the moment he saw Eren’s aghast expression, and suddenly he was terrified."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back!
> 
> Trying to keep my chapters 1000 words minimum so I don't burn myself out or disappoint my readers. Let me know if it works! Constructive criticism is always welcome.

He blinks once.

Blinks again.

But the image of a half-nude woman won’t go away.

His first instinct was to run but that exit was taken from him the moment he stepped inside. He instead hurries for an apology but the words aren’t forming and he stands there looking like a fish out of water. Very charming.

It’s just his luck that his first encounter with a gorgeous lady in all 18 years of his life ends up this way. Now covered up by a blanket, the blond beauty is positively seething, throwing daggers his way with those piercing, gold eyes. He watches her perfect pink lips snap at him and he wills himself to stop drooling.

“Wuh…what?”

She throws up her hands in frustration. “I said, how are you that much of a knucklehead that you’d come barging into a room unannounced?!” Her voice is husky, a little bit like Ymir but a little higher in tone, but not so much it was grating at his skull. It was perfect - just like everything else about her. Her arms were all slim lines and soft curves as they wildly gesticulated in the air as she continued to swear at him.

He caught himself staring again when those eyes zeroed back on him. Breathing was suddenly difficult.

“So it was you that brought me here?” she asked, her voice quieter.

Eren frowned at that. “No? I carried my friend here but I must have mixed up the rooms.” Speaking of which, he should really check up on him.

The next few moments were still as the two teens stared at each other, confusion written across the lady’s face. Now it was her turn to gulp like a dying fish as she struggled for an answer. Eren felt warm with affection as he watched the adorably ruffled lady frown at a spot on the mattress. Then she looked up again.

“Do you… know who I am?”

 _‘I wish’_ , is what Eren almost said but he caught himself before he could embarrass himself any more.

— 

The blank expression he was met with was all the answer Jean needed.

He couldn’t believe it. Eren genuinely thought he was a girl. A _fucking girl._ He thinks back to his face in the mirror and remembers that he still looked a lot like himself, at least he thought so. Eren was probably being his dumb, dense self again, but maybe… Maybe his face had changed since the last time he saw himself - which is completely plausible given that he’s grown a pair of tits literally overnight; a quick facial reconstruction would be a walk in the park.

Eren remains by the door wearing an expectant expression.

 _‘Do I lie?’_ He entertains the thought for a while, the trouble he’d have to go through to put on an act, dress in clothes he doesn’t like, sit alone at dinner with no one to talk to. It sounded absolutely terrible. The other option was to obviously come clean but even that was a weighted option. Firstly, would Eren even believe him? If his assumption that his appearance had changed beyond recognition was correct, would he be able to convince him at all? Maybe he’ll report there being a crazy lady who’s off her face with pain meds and Jean’ll get fed to the titans. There also was the choice to tell someone else entirely (read: Marco) but he doesn’t want to put them through the weirdness and potentially end friendships.

“Are you okay?” He almost looks shy when Jean focuses back on Eren, a foot placed forward as if he was about to approach but wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

He supposes what he has with Eren was also a weird variation of friendship. They fought a lot, sure, but he feels that that in itself has created a bond of trust between them. Jean only ever threw a punch when he knew Eren could take it, when he was ready for it, no foul play, and he suspects it’s mutual. They have seen each other rage, cry, bleed and yet they’re still here, still standing together. And maybe that’s what Jean needs.

“Come here. I need to tell you something.” Eren almost looks relieved as he ambles over, asking before he places the paperwork on the bedside table and settling in the chair adjacent to the bed. Remembering that he’s still topless under the blanket makes Jean’s cheeks colour but he quickly reverts his focus back to the matter at hand. “But you _need_ to promise me that you won’t freak out, okay?”

Eren furrows his thick brows suspiciously but gives a slow nod anyway and a drawn-out “Okaaay?”

“Okay?”

“Okay, okay.” He nods more firmly this time.

With a deep breath, Jean inches a touch closer until their knees knocked together, going over his decision one last time before locking eyes.

“I'm…” he clears his throat and tries again, “I’m not actually who you think I am.” That doesn’t get an immediate response so he continues with bated breath.

“I'm Jean.”

— 

The words don’t quite register straight away…

Until they _do_.

Eren slowly falls back against the backrest of his chair but he keeps his stunned gaze on her face, suddenly seeing that dorky haircut, that challenging glare before a fight, that sharp grin after pulling off a killer move on his ODM gear.

“ _Holy shit_.” His voice barely comes out as a whisper and Jean just nods, letting his gaze drop to the floor. Eren’s mind was in shards. He couldn’t fathom the sudden information and forgot to look away from Jean’s covered chest.

He feels the slap before he realises it coming.

“O-ow?” Eren recoils; more from surprise than actual pain.

“You were staring, asshole.” And Eren would have shouted back if he didn’t look so... scared. The blankets were wound much tighter around his shoulders, and he was shaking slightly. Jean’s eyes were back on him but they were glassy, threatening to spill over the humiliated flush of his cheeks. Any anger that Eren held in his body drained away and instead guilt pooled cold in the pit of his stomach. 

“Hey…” Eren slid off his chair and perched on the bed, keeping a comfortable distance between him and Jean, “Look, man, I’m really sorry.” Jean didn’t reply but he didn’t move away either, so Eren took that as a good sign. “I don’t know how this happened but, uh, you’ll be okay?” God, he really wasn’t good at this comforting stuff. He tried to recall all those times Armin or Mikasa had pulled him off to the side to calm him down. They often huddled close and held his hands or shoulders, spoke quietly and kindly, smiled and never letting the stress show on their face, and Eren would be calm in seconds.

But that was different. Eren, Mikasa and Armin were joined at the hip; they were inseparable. Hugs and smiles were what they always have been but he and Jean weren’t gentle, or soft, or cuddly. They were _fire_ , they were scowls and shouts, bloodied noses and bruised fists. If he tried any of the things he did with Armin and Mikasa, he suspects he’ll be getting something much worse than a slap to the face.

But Jean is tucking his face into the bundle of sheets, and his hair looks incredibly soft, and the faint sniffles barely muffled by the blankets are filling the silent room, and Eren’s head hurts, his heart _hurts_.

— 

He doesn’t know why he’s crying anymore. The weight of this whole ordeal just came crashing down on him the moment he saw Eren’s aghast expression, and suddenly he was _terrified_. His shoulders felt heavy, the weight of his bust being the only thing he can feel anymore. He hated it. He hated his new body, he hated himself. He never asked for this.

Jean wanted to disappear.

But something caught him. Arms, Jean thinks.

Warm, sturdy arms are wrapped around his shoulders and folded up knees. They pull him into a solid body and suddenly Eren’s voice is a lot closer now, softer.

“You’ll be okay,” he speaks into Jean’s hair, and he wants to argue. Because what does he know? He can’t bring back his old body. He can’t take away the growing ball of hatred in his chest. He doesn’t know shit. But at that moment, Jean felt safe, like he really was going to be okay. Like there was still hope.

He let himself peak out of his nest and saw the tanned juncture between Eren’s neck and shoulder.

“Will I?” he croaked, just to fill the silence. Eren draws back enough to see Jean’s face, and the mess he probably made of it but the tender smile he’s met with is worth it.

“Of course you will. We can go ask Hanji, she’ll know what to do next.” Jean lets himself smile at that.

“We?”

Eren nods with a boyish grin. “Yes, we.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep myself from accidentally writing insta-love but I am a softie at heart and angst pains me (but it hurts so good).


End file.
